Suffer In Silence
by HeronRainwater
Summary: Sam's home life is kept private, and no-one asks any questions, until Puck sees something that makes him suspicious. Rated T-M, Contains Self harm. Sam & Puck/ Sam & Will, no slash.  First Glee fanfic, so don't hurt me please! :L
1. Chapter 1

_I've been reading the Glee fanfics for a few weeks or so now, and I noticed there aren't that many Sam ones... And I like hurt stories, because then it gives the other characters a chance to be all supportive and it's a real n'aaawww moment... So, please read and review, and let me know what you think! I don't think this is a one-shot, so let me know if you'd read more! :) _

Sam Evan stared at himself in the mirror of the boy's bathroom. A pair of hazel eyes stared back, empty of any trace of emotion. His gaze shifted to the door, checking that the coast was clear. He knew it was risky to check during school hours, but he hadn't had the courage to examine the damage at home. His dad has been pretty angry last night, and he'd hit harder than usual. Sam was used to his abuse; as his Father had often pointed out, he was worthless; a waste of space, deserving of everything his Father did to him. Sam tried to be better. He tried to improve his grades, but the letters jumbled in his head and the numbers never made sense. He tried to compensate by being the star quarterback of the football team, but Finn took that position after his shoulder injury. His dad hadn't been happy about that. But Sam had taken the verbal abuse, the words stinging almost as bad as the blows that rained down on him afterwards. He had curled up in the corner of his room and waited until the aching throughout his body had dulled enough for him to finally sink into unconsciousness.

Cautiously, Sam rolled up his shirt sleeve and stared at the bruises forming on top of month old scars. The faint white lines hadn't been inflicted by his Father, more as a result of his Father's bullying. Sam turned his wrist so that the underside of his arm was facing upwards. The cuts here were redder, angrier, newer. Sam had drawn the blade across the inside of his wrist the second his dad had left the room. The scarlet lines hurt in a good way. He controlled the pain. Gingerly, Sam poked one of the bruises. He winced as the pain rippled through his arm. Grinding his teeth together, he fished in his jeans pocket for the small blade he kept wrapped in a piece of tissue. He could feel the memories of last night beginning to overwhelm him. He could remember his Father throwing open his bedroom door, staggering a little as the alcohol he had consumed made him sway. He couldn't remember ever saying the words, but he could vaguely remember hearing himself begging for mercy. His Father had ignored his pleas. The blade in Sam's hand glinted temptingly, but he shook his head. Cutting himself here wouldn't be a good idea. Someone could come in at any moment, and if someone noticed the blood, they'd get suspicious. They'd call home, and his dad would find out. Sam would make an excuse, something about falling over or walking into a thorn bush and the suspicious party would shrug it off. His dad would have a harder time forgetting about it, though.

Sam was too preoccupied in his own thoughts to notice someone pushing open the bathroom door. Puck frowned and stopped in his tracks as he took in the sight in front of him. Bigmouth Evans was staring down at his hand, or something in his hand at least. Sam turned a little in Puck's direction to shove whatever the mystery item was into his pocket. Puck involuntarily gasped, giving his presence away. Sam wheeled around to face the other boy in the same moment that Puck closed the remaining space between the two of them. In a moment of desperation, Sam tried to pull his arm out of sight of Puck, pointlessly praying that he hadn't seen anything out of the ordinary. Sam knew it was too late, Puck had seen, but he was still desperate to hide the truth. Puck caught a hold of Sam's wrist and stared at the scars.

"What the hell's this, Evans?" He demanded, forcing his eyes to look up at Sam's face. The gesture was wasted. Sam's head was pointed at the floor, his eyes squeezed shut.

"It's nothing, Puck, really. I… fell. Into a thorn bush. It's stupid, really," Sam faked a smile, forcing himself to meet Puck's eyes. This was his first mistake; the fear glinting in his own hazel eyes was evident, and Puck wasn't stupid. Frowning, Puck noticed a blue bruise half hidden by the cuff of Sam's sleeve.

"Right, so you happened to fall into an awkwardly placed bush, but only cut the inside of one arm. That doesn't explain the bruises, Sam," Puck snapped. Sam dropped his eyes to his feet again. "You're cutting, right?" Puck continued. He took Sam's silence as a yes. Puck wants to say something more, to yell at Sam for hurting himself, for not thinking that he could talk to at least _one _of them in the glee club, but the bruises are too much of a distraction. He needs to know how they happened. "Did… Sam, how did you get those bruises? Did someone hit you?" Sam didn't respond again. Puck was starting to wonder if Evans had forgotten how to speak. It sure seemed that way.

"I-I…" Sam couldn't bring himself to say anything more than that. He was in trouble. His dad would kill him. He _had_ to get out of this.

"Sam?" Puck loosened his grip on Sam's wrist and moved his hand to Sam's shoulder. Slowly, Sam raised his head. He looked at Puck for barely a few seconds, before ducking out of his grip and bolting out of the bathroom. "Sam!" Puck yelled, wheeling around. What was he supposed to do now? After a millisecond of thought, he sprinted after the blonde.

Puck was suspicious. It was only a matter of time before he told someone, and then his dad would be furious with him. Sam didn't doubt his Father's capability of killing his own son; he had threatened to often enough. He could hear his name being called behind him, Puck chasing after him. He knew he had to run faster, but his legs and the thumping stitch in the side of his chest disagreed with him. Slowing his pace a little, he rounded the corner at the end of the corridor and came face to face with Will Schuester.

"Sam?" The teacher frowned, "Is everything okay?" Sam studied the concern in Mr. Schuester's eyes. Maybe he could trust him? No, he couldn't tell anyone. His dad was clever like that. He'd pass it off as a bullying incident, or now that Puck had seen the cuts, his Father could just as easily say Sam found a way of bruising himself. He walked into a wall, fell down the stairs, whatever story Mr. Evans chose would convince the suspicious party that Sam was just a messed up teenager. He could hear Puck finally catching up with him, but he couldn't bring himself to direct his eyes away from Mr Schue's.

"Sam, what the hell?" Puck panted, leaning over in an attempt to get his breath back quicker. Will looked from Sam to Puck, and back to Sam again.

"What's going on?" He asked, not directing the question at either of them, and talking to himself as much as he was talking to the two stood before him. Puck straightened up and looked at Sam's blank expression. After realising that Sam wasn't going to say anything for time being and Puck didn't seem to want to say anything without Sam's permission, he sighed a little. "Let's take this to my office." Puck nodded reluctantly and put a hand on Sam's shoulder, guiding him forwards as Mr Schue led the way. Sam was too overcome with panic to resist. His Father would kill him for this, for sure.


	2. Chapter 2

_Thanks to everyone who reviewed last chapter, who alerted and who favourite story...ed. :)_

Two

Will Schuester held his office door open and gestured his two students inside. He had no idea whatsoever as to what was going on, but Puck looked worried. Puck's concern was the first clue that something wasn't right. The second clue was that Sam, usually so easy going and content with anything, looked absolutely terrified. Will waited until both boys had taken a seat before closing the door and sitting on the opposite side of the desk.

"So what's going on?" He asked, leaning forwards a little and clasping his hands together atop the wooden surface. Puck looked sideways at Sam, who kept his eyes on a pile of books stacked precariously on the desk.

"I… Sam's… I saw…" Puck tried several different sentence starters, but other words failed him. He didn't want to rat Sam out, but he knew he should say something. "I don't know if I should... Sam?" Sam didn't look up. He couldn't bring himself to. "Sam… Dude, show him." Puck's suggestion had Sam's already erratic breathing come to a complete standstill.

"Show me what?" Mr Schue's tone was cautious now. "Sam?" Sam tried his hardest to block out his teacher's voice. "Sam, look at me?" Hesitantly, Sam forced himself to meet the worry in Mr Schuester's eyes. Not taking his eyes away from Mr Schue's face, Sam moved his shaking right hand to the cuff of his left sleeve and gingerly rolled it up. Mr Schue's mouth dropped open and he sighed. "Puck, you can go." With a single nod, Puck stood up and walked over to the door, stopping only to shoot one reassuring glance at Sam. Sam didn't register it though; he didn't want to risk moving, saying anything, in case it all came out. Will waited until the door was firmly shut before turning his attention back to Sam. "Why, Sam?" He managed. He tried to find some spark of something in the boy's eyes, but all he could make out was… fear. Sam just shrugs as if it's nothing, but Will can tell there's something else going on. He spots the large blue mark peeking out from where Sam's shirt cuff now rests. There was a fainter brown one next to this, and an even older yellow one stretching across both of them. "Where did you get those bruises, Sam?" In Mr Schue's head, things start to click into place.

"I… I fell over." Sam replied shakily, the first words he has spoken since Will had stopped him in the hallway.

"I don't think you did, Sam," The teacher contradicted gently.

"It's nothing," Sam insisted, shaking his head and moving to stand up. As he does, the fabric of his shirt rises up a little, revealing another bruise on his stomach. Sam isn't aware that he's revealed this, but Will noticed.

"Sam, lift your shirt up," Will instructed, mentally praying that what he had seen had actually been his imagination, that there wasn't another bruise mark on the poor boy's body. Sam shook his head.

"I… I can't," Sam stammered, his breathing speeding up.

"Sam, whatever's going on… you know you can talk to me, right? Or one of the others in Glee club, or Miss Pillsbury…"

"But I _can't!_" Sam's fear suddenly turned into anger. "Okay, fine, you want me to talk? My dad hit me, and I cut because it hurts less! He did _this_-" Sam tugged up his shirt and revealed a collection of bruises, all varying in size and age. Mr Schue swore under his breath. "And he wasn't even that mad when these happened! And now that you know, he's going to find out, and he's going to _kill me!_" Sam finished his rant, clamping his mouth shut and trying to slow his breathing. Now he was in trouble.

"Sam," Mr Schue started, slowly rising from his chair. "Sam, I can help you."

"No," Sam shook his head. "I can't… stay here. I have to go." The anger within him had dissipated now, and all that was left was terror. If he stayed, he was dead. Mr Schue realised what Sam was about to do just a second too late. The moment it clicked in his head was only a millisecond before Sam yanked open the office door and disappeared through it. Will didn't even think about it; as quick as his instincts would allow him, he bolted after the teenager.

Sam knew he had to run, and he couldn't stop this time. The stitch gradually forming in his side attempted to slow his pace, but he ignored it as he raced through the currently empty school halls.

"Sam, wait!" He heard Mr. Schuster call after him, but there was no way he could stop. He could hear the sound of someone sprinting after him, but he couldn't risk looking around to see how close they were. His track coach had mentioned once that by looking at the other runner, you lose focus and your speed deteriorates. He made it to the student entrance of the school and managed to get out of the door, but the gap between him and the teacher got smaller as he fumbled with the door handle. Sam practically flew down the stone steps. If he could just run a little faster, he'd be clear of out in front of himself instinctively. Part of his mind told him that now it was too late to get away, but he still wanted to try. No, he _had_ to try. He scrambled to his feet as quickly as he could, trying to ignore the throbbing in his hands and knees. He turned himself to run again, but something caught his arm. He tried to throw off the hand, but it was useless. Mr Schue was a lot stronger than he looked, and he had Sam's arm in an iron grasp. "Sam, it's okay," He murmured. Sam shook his head furiously; painfully aware of the humiliating tears leaking down his face. He scrunched his still aching hands into fists, curling his fingernails into his palms until he could be certain that they were leaving marks. This was a less effective way of hurting himself to stop other pain, but it still worked. And besides; he needed a distraction. He stared at the floor and tried to keep the sobs threatening to escape inside him. "Sam, look at me." Sam shook his head again, blinking his eyes repeatedly in an abysmal attempt to get rid of the tears. "Sam, come on." Sam slowly tilted his head to meet the Spanish teacher's eyes. Upon seeing the fear in Sam's eyes, he put his arm around the boy and pulled him close. "Sam, it'll be okay, I promise." Sam knew that Mr Schuester had no idea how he felt; if he had, he wouldn't have just lied to him.

**_Review please! :) _**


	3. Chapter 3

Heyy readers! I'm sorry it's been so long since I last updated, really I am :) This will be the last chapter of SIS, because I don;t like hurting Sam, I don't know where this fanfic is going and I can write other Sam fanfics with him having a different background :) I don't own Sam (sobs) or Will (sobs again) or Glee (hysterical crying). Please review, thanks! :)

Chapter Three

Sam sat in Mr. Schue's office, his elbows resting on the edge of the teachers' desk and his chin resting in his hands. He was alone for the time being, Mr. Schue having stepped outside to 'make a few calls', as he'd put it. Sam had a vague idea who he was calling; the police, social services, anyone along those lines. In the brief minutes that Sam had been left alone with his thoughts, he had considered trying to run again. That plan, however, was out of the question. Mr. Schue was far from stupid, and had positioned himself directly outside of the door. Sam wasn't sure if this was so the teacher could listen to what he was doing while he called up the necessary parties, or so that he could grab the teenager if he tried anything, but either way, it rendered his plan useless.

A few minutes later, the office door swung open. Sam couldn't bring himself to look around, but he knew Mr. Schue was stood there.

"What's going to happen?" He asked, barely loud enough for the teacher to hear him clearly without having to strain.

"We're going to stop by at yours so you can get your things. Your Dad won't be there; the police are going to his office to arrest him. Then, you're staying with me. If that's okay with you, of course?" Will frowned, staring at Sam. Sam nodded, still not making eye contact with the man.

"That's fine," He mumbled, making no sign of moving. Will stared at the boy for a few moments, but still Sam didn't respond.

"Sam?" Will reached out and placed a hand on the boy's shoulder, only to have him flinch away from the physical contact. _Of course he'll do that_, Will mentally chastised himself. _The poor kid's used to being beaten 24/7, he's not going to react well to people touching him without warning_.

"Sorry," Sam apologised, slowly turning to face the teacher. "I didn't… I'm sorry."

"Sam, it's fine, don't worry," Will insisted. "Come on; let's get going." Sam nodded and slowly got to his feet, keeping his eyes on the ground, and made his way out of the door that the teacher held open for him. Will made sure to follow close by the boy, keeping a hand on his arm. Sam tried not to duck away from the touch this time, but the discomfort was evident on his face. Will managed to keep the concern from his face as best he could, but inside, he hoped it wasn't too late to salvage at least a scrap of Sam's confidence. The blonde looked so broken, so terrified and disorientated that it was almost unreal. Will knew he had to help him, and he would. He'd promised Sam that it'd be okay; in that moment, Will vowed to himself that he wouldn't stop until he'd fulfilled that promise.

_Sam, it'll be okay, I promise._ Mr Schue's words echoed repeatedly in Sam's head. If that was the case, then why was he know curled up on the floor of his teacher's bathroom, the door locked, shaking violently. After collecting a few of his belongings from his house and returning to Mr Schue's apartment, the teacher had insisted on sleeping on the couch so that his student could have the bed. Sam had hesitantly agreed, and has probably had three or four peaceful hours of sleep before the nightmares started. The nightmares weren't a new occurrence; they'd been plaguing his sleep for almost every night since the abuse had started, but that didn't mean they were any the less petrifying. A brief glance at the bathroom clock told him that it was past two in the morning, and even through the bathroom door, Sam could hear the faint sound of Mr Schue's snoring. He knew that he shouldn't still be afraid of his Father's abuse now that his teacher had taken him in, but his Father was a clever man; he'd find a way to get out of whatever the courts placed on him. Sam knew that once his Father found him again, he'd be far from okay. As silently as he could, he stood up and pulled open the bathroom cabinet, quietly rifling through the different products. He smiled in spite of himself at the amount of hair products on the middle shelf, but for the most part he ignored them. His left hand closed around an unopened packet of tablets. Taking them, closing the cabinet door and slipping out of the bathroom, he grabbed his clothes from his bag and hastily threw them on. What he wanted more than anything was for the suffering to be over, but if he tried that here, there was a risk of Mr Schue waking up and stopping him, and then there'd be no way that he'd get another chance. If Sam was somewhere far away, however, it'd all be over soon.

Unbeknownst to Sam, Will was a fairly light sleeper. At the sound of his apartment door lightly shutting, his eyes flew open and he sat up. He hadn't put it past Sam to try something like this, so he was already dressed. Pulling on his shoes as fast as he could manage and grabbing his jacket from the back of the couch, he quickly followed out of the front door. He knew Sam wasn't doing this to be a hassle; he just didn't feel safe anywhere he was. Will was going to get to Sam before he did anything that he'd regret, and he was going to help. He just _had_ to.

Sam wasn't sure exactly where he was going; just that he had to keep walking. He increased his pace to a nervous jog, and as paranoia set in, he full on sprinted in an unknown direction. His heart beat in his chest louder than ever before, but he ignored it. He kept on going until he became aware of a park coming up on the right, the sort of one with no gates that could be easily accessed through a gap in the hedge. He slowed his pace as he entered it, making his way to a bench and pulling the box of tablets from his pocket. Carefully, he pulled open the box and slid the tray out.

Will's side was on fire as he ran after Sam as silently as he could. He'd known the boy was fast, but this was really something. Sam slowed and turned left into the park. Will, thankful for the chance to slow down and catch his breath, waited a few seconds and silently followed him. Sam was sat on the park bench when he finally got there, holding something in one hand and bringing his other up to his mouth. Will frowned. What was he… were those… were those pills? Without thinking about it, Will ran from where he had been standing and grabbed Sam's wrist in an attempt to stop him. Sam nearly jumped out of his skin in shock, but then something else crossed his eyes… was that disappointment Will could see? He pushed that to the back of his mind when he realised Sam's hand was empty. Snatching the tray from Sam's other hand he breathed a sigh of relief when he realised only three were missing.

"Was this all of them, Sam?" Will asked, trying to keep his voice steady. Sam didn't meet his eyes, but he nodded once. "So the other three… have you swallowed them?" Once again, Sam doesn't meet his eye, but this time, he shakes his head. "So they're still in your mouth?" Will guessed. Sam nodded. He'd tried to swallow, but his nerves had got the best of him and his mouth was now painfully dry. "Spit them out." Sam tried one last time to swallow them, and then admitted defeat. He leant over the side of the bench and spat them out into the grass. He couldn't do anything right. He couldn't even manage to swallow something to save himself. It was kind of ironic really; that the only way he could save himself was to kill himself. Will sighed and sat down next to him. "Sam…" He started, but he didn't know what to say next. What exactly do you say to an abused, self-harming teenage boy who just tried to claim his own life? "Why… why'd you… why would you try that now, Sam?" He settled for. Sam held his left wrist with his right hand, his left hand sitting atop his right thigh. He could hear the voice talking to him, but he was choosing to ignore it. Instead, he was weighing up his chances if he were to run now. Mr. Schue seemed fairly fast, as Spanish teachers went, and he could feel his legs shaking uncontrollably even sat down. He'd probably make it a few feet before they gave out and he was left sprawled on the floor. "Sam?" The worried voice calling his name sounded too distant to be concerned about. "Sam, he can't hurt you anymore, you know that, right?" That got Sam's attention, but he kept his eyes on his hands.

"He'll talk his way out of it. He's good with words. He'll kill me… I was… saving him the trouble," Sam mumbled. Will felt as if someone had punched him in the gut.

"Sam…" It was all very well saying it would be okay, but that was obviously having no effect on Sam. "Sam, look at me." He'd seen the disappointment when Sam had failed to end his life; he needed to be certain there wasn't something else going on now. Sam slowly raised his head and stared at the space in front of him. "Come on, Sam." Sam forced himself to stare the older man dead in the eyes. Will resisted the urge to sigh at the obvious fear he could see on his student's face. "They aren't going to let him go. He's _not_ going to hurt you _ever again_, I _promise_," Will stressed. Sam shook his head slowly.

"You don't know him, you don't know what… what he's _like_," Sam insisted, his voice cracking. "He'll… he's…" Words failed him and he trailed off.

"Sam," Will interrupted him. "I know he hurt you, and I know it's going to take you a while to trust anyone, but I won't let him hurt you ever again, okay?" After a few seconds, much to Will's surprise, Sam nodded slowly.

"Okay," He whispered. Will felt a reassured smile creep onto his face.

"Okay," The teacher repeated, nodding. "Well, it's almost three AM, and it's cold. I vote we go back before we both catch pneumonia." Sam nodded his agreement, taking a deep breath and hoping that his legs would be able to hold him up. Thankfully, they complied. The two walked together in silence for a few minutes, not even the sound of a passing car audible.

"Mr. Schue?" Sam asked hesitantly, his voice shattering the quiet.

"Yeah?"

"Thanks." Sam wouldn't lie to himself and he couldn't ignore his paranoia; he couldn't shake the feeling that his dad would find a way to get everything in his favour. But Sam knew that if that happened, Mr. Schue wouldn't let him get hurt. For the first time in too long, Sam knew he was safe.

A/N: Thanks for reading and reviewing if you have and thanks for favourite story-ing and alert-ing :) If there are any grammar/spelling errors please let me know, because I'm generally obsessed with grammar and punctuation, but I type really fast and microsoft word lies to me sometimes... or review if you liked it, or don't review... but reviews are like love, so please do! :L


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